The Wayward Princess
by Karisia
Summary: Ginerva Riddle has been waiting to be reunited with her father for more than three years. At the beginning of the new school year she had reached her limit. Determined to do anything to get the Dark Lord's attention, the young witch does not know that she is already getting very close to falling out of her father's good graces forever. Dark!Ginny
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: No characters or ideas of the Harry Potter universe belong to me._

_This fic starts at the beginning of the sixth book. All of the events that have happened in the previous books are valid for this story except for alterations to Ginny's personal history. _

_This chapter does not contain any sexual scenes. If I do decide to put some in in later chapters I will put a warning at the beginning of the chapter._

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**The Wayward Princess**

**Chapter 1: The Breaking Point**

Ginerva considered it a miracle that she had made it into the Slytherin dormitories without being noticed by anyone. Her body was weak, hands trembling as she lifted one of them up to knock on the wooden door. She had to do it. There was barely any other choice. Of all the things that she had done the previous year nothing seemed to have mattered. At this point it was getting very hard to compose her expression and not let the anger show. The tears could not be stopped any longer. Every night she fell asleep crying, body shaking violently from the onset of pain. It was stupid really to do this to herself. None of it should have mattered. But she was such a young child back then and it was more than easy to tempt her, to show her what kind of delirium of pure pleasure darkness could bring.

Of all the things she did now, all the things that were considered to be the epitome of existence by those of her own age felt nothing more than mediocre. She had tried, however, tried everything that her classmates thought was fun to do, but nothing has worked and she was at the end of her patience now.

Her antics have become…..childish to say the least. Her grades have slipped from the top of the class where they have been at the end of her third year right to the very bottom where they were when she left the school after her fourth year.

Her parents had been concerned, of course. They even gave her a few stern lectures over the most recent summer but all of the words had sailed over her head. If Ginerva concentrated hard enough, she could see her mother's pained face as she looked at her only daughter. But there was nothing that they would do, and the redhead despised them for that. Her mind was too clouded by that point not to lash out at Arthur and Molly, and even then there was nothing that they did apart from confining her to her room for almost the whole summer. Ginerva didn't mind: it meant less time looking at the helpless faces of the rest of the Weasley clan.

Her reputation among the teachers went down along with her grades. Too many boys have found that it was a very easy task for the girl to permit them to touch her, kiss her. The short skirts and tight tops that were purchased from Muggles shops left very little to the imagination.

Any friends that she might have had were gone. Half of the female population of Hogwarts was jealous and the other half was disgusted. She did not care.

Ginerva felt broken and forgotten and this was her last resort. If nothing came of it she would be at wits end.

It felt like a lifetime has passed before the door swung open. Her breath stilled as her eyes fell on the half-naked figure standing just a couple of feet away from her.

"Who is this?" the voice was slightly groggy from sleep, but still retained the coldness that she often associated with the person. The Malfoy heir looked with slightly bleary eyes at her hooded figure. That picture would have been adorable had his wand not been pointed straight at her. The hand that held it had a sure grip on the wood, despite the tiredness of its owner.

"Malfoy," she spoke softly, a manner in which her fellow students were not used to hear from her. But she was too weak at that point (and frankly too scared of Draco rejecting her) to pull off a confident bravado. Her arms lifted of their own accord, trembling ever so slightly as they lowered her hood, revealing her face to the blond. A few moments of silence passed as she waited with baited breath.

The Slytherin stepped aside to let her in without any question to the Gryffindor's great surprise. She was not expecting that. Maybe he was just prone to let in beautiful young witches who came to his rooms in the middle of the night like his reputation suggested.

Those notions quickly left her mind though when in one motion he used his left hand to slam the door closed behind her and lift the wand that was held in his right hand to place its tip right under her chin, effectively holding her in place.

A different kind of fear coursed through her as the wood created a small but painful bruise below her face.

"What do you think you are doing here?" he ground out harshly, his expression conforming into one of malicious anger.

Shallow breaths left her lips as her eyes remained locked with the ones of the Slytherin. As much as she wanted to at that moment, she couldn't back away now. "Please," the word was barely above a whisper as it left her mouth. By all the Gods, if she ended up dead by the end of this night she would not care. Her arms felt like cotton candy, filled with nothing but air as they rose to the strings that held the cloak together. The thick fabric dropped from around her, leaving nothing to cover her naked form.

"Take me," she whispered, desperation leaking through the words. Moments passed and both of them remained completely still. Her eyes lowered from his, unable to take any more of the intense stare of the grey orbs.

Not a word was spoken and Ginerva even begun to wonder if he heard her at all. Surely he understood what she meant. But he didn't move, didn't touch her. The stillness seemed to last forever for the young witch. Her eyes closed, the delicate skin scrunching up to control the tears of desperation that threatened to seep through. Breath hitching, she gathered all the courage she had left inside her and looked back up at the wizard in front of her.

Everything that occurred next was very sudden. The searing anger that she saw in his eyes propelled the Gryffindor to flinch and move away from him violently. She would have fallen into a graceless heap had his hand not wound itself around her upper arm in an iron grip. A whimper left her lips before she could stop it, her body still trying to move away from him until he jerked her back towards him, his expression morphing into an ugly snarl.

"You stupid, stupid girl,' Draco hissed between his lips, his fingers digging further into her skin to communicate the message more clearly to her.

Those words seemed to have sparked a fire inside her, something that finally pushed her to choose between fight or flight, told her that coming to a private dormitory of a Slytherin as dangerous as the Malfoy heir would never have been a safe and sound decision.

"Let…let me go," Ginerva said with some hesitation as she to wench her arm free from him.

That action however, caused the blond to slam her mercilessly against the door.

A sharp yelp left her lips, the violence being completely unexpected.

"Oh no, Ginerva," Draco whispered darkly as he leaned in to her ear. "I think I am going to enjoy what you have offered."

The shiver that ran through her at those words was not pleasant at all. It was one of fear, terror more precisely, as the Gryffindor's mind wrapped around just what he had said.

"You are one beautiful kitten. It's a shame we barely see any of your kind in the dungeons," Draco said, his lips tickling her ear. The young man's voice grew softer and gained even more of a dangerous edge that it did not have before.

The free hand that was not holding her arm in a tight grip rose and the witch - who was in a state of shock - flinched and moved away from it as much as she could, more scared of it finding its place on one of her more intimate body parts than the pain it might inflict. But she found neither was the case as it rose to stroke her locks back from her face.

She had no idea what had happened to her. One moment she was in complete control of herself and the next, she was pushed into a pit of fear by the Slytherin. How the Gods have played her. The sole reason she came to this place was to gain as much attention as she possibly could, to prove something. Choosing one of the most dangerous students that inhabited the castle was the main criteria. But now fate was laughing in her face and the Slytherin Prince had her firmly in his grip, quite willing to do anything he wished with the body that was offered to him.

The fact that she had changed her mind did not matter to him at all; in fact it only seemed to encourage him. A sick feeling started to form at the pit of her stomach.

"Do tell me, Ginerva, are you still a virgin or has one of those boys you always have around yourself been allowed inside you already?" he continued in the same one as the back of his fingers gently glided over the planes of her face.

The shocked and fearful trance that the Gryffindor has been in seemed to snap at the sound of those words. Something very ugly reared its head inside of her being and in the next moment the girl spat into the Slytherin's face.

The unexpected action caused Draco to recoil from her and loosen the grip he had on her arm.

"You sick pervert!" Ginerva screamed as her hand flew to his face and left a red mark on it with a resounding slap.

There were more screams and erratic movement that followed; she didn't really remember all of it. All she could remember were the tears that finally broke loose of her eyes. They were the tears of a lost hope, of an ending.

She didn't have a lot of time to linger on such thoughts, however, because soon her own scream was piercing the air, the sound amplified by bouncing off the walls of the room. The Cruciatus Curse had only been aimed at her person for a second, yet that had been enough to achieve its purpose.

"Pathetic little Gryffindor," Draco snarled as his arms snatched the girl up from the air just as she was about to fall to the floor from the aftershock of the curse. Was it disgust that she heard in his voice? Thinking back to this night a few days later she would not be surprised if it was.

A breath had lodged itself in her chest after the scream and she struggled to regain it as he held her against him. Her entire body trembled and soon enough the trickle of tears turned into a great stream and her form begun to shake violently.

A sound of disgust came from the wizard that was holding her as he dragged her to the bed and threw her on top of the mattress. Shoulders shaking, she lay there and let the tears flow, completely forgetting that her entire body was on open display to the wizard in the process. It didn't matter; nothing seemed to matter at that moment. She had lost her last chance. What on Earth was she to do now?

Soon after he deposited the witch on his own bed Draco laid the cloak on top of her shaking body. His eyes did not linger on the figure that he hid under the fabric. He stepped away from her and to the fireplace that still held some burning embers from when they had been lit earlier that evening.

Ginerva was in pain as she lay on the bed. The Cruciatus Curse had triggered something in her, broke something loose. The emotional pain that had been building with an immense speed over her fourth year of wizarding education was crushing the girl in its full strength right now. Now, in one of the first days of her fifth year, she could not wait any longer. Heart wrenching sobs abused her throat and the dark green sheets below her were soon made wet with tears.

It was a while later when the tears and the sounds finally stopped, an eerie sort of silence falling over the room. Ginerva did not speak as she lay among bed sheets that were not her own. She pulled her own cloak tighter around her cool shivering figure, glad to find it giving her some sense of modesty once again.

"Finished now?" the cold unforgiving voice came from somewhere in the room that the girl couldn't see. She turned her head - her cheeks wet and scarlet from crying – and saw the dark foreboding figure of the Slytherin standing by the fireplace – his back facing her. At that moment she found herself eternally grateful that he was not looking for her. She could see him though. The bare muscles of his back were pronounced beneath the taut skin, one wrist holding another at the base of his spine. He was a very handsome wizard – she would give him that – but a heartless one, nonetheless.

Draco didn't wait for her to answer before speaking once again. "Did you really think that the Dark Lord would let you get away with such insolence for so long, Ginerva Armina Riddle?" he asked, his tone harsh and unforgiving.

Dead silence fell upon the room. Ginerva did not move. "How…" she begun to say, but the words were lost before they reached her lips. That name had not been spoken by anyone but her father and to hear the Malfoy heir say it felt very…..foreign to her ears. He knew. But why?

"I would think that a witch of your origins would know not to behave like a common harlot." The insult were sharp and the tone was one of disgust. He was addressing her in a way that one would use to speak to the lowliest of beings, someone who should be grateful for even being spoken to.

"How….dare you…." the snarl left her lips, broken and unsteady. Her body tensed in anger, one arm sliding under her for her to be able to lift her shoulders. "Don't you dare say anything about me! You do not know-'" her angry tirade was cut off by the wizard.

He whipped around, his angry eyes boring holes into her flesh. "Oh, I know enough about you!" he snapped, stepping towards her. "You are nothing more than a spoiled little princess who wanted to get her father's attention. But what you seemed to forget is that your father is the Dark Lord who has far more important things to worry about than a useless little girl."

The distance between them reduced with every word the young wizard spoke, as he slowly made his approach.

"I am not useless!" she shot back at him.

"You are childish at best!" his tone was kept much quieter than hers yet the point was managed to be carried across to the Gryffindor. "You have done whatever you pleased for the past year and it all started after the point Saint Potter announced to the whole world that the Dark Lord was back. Pathetic!" the last word left his lips in a snarl much like it had earlier that night.

His words that were closely accompanied by aggression were hitting her sorest spots. She did not cry this time even though the desire to do so was growing with every moment. To have someone else analyse her behaviour of the past few years so clearly and with such little emotion was both enlightening and angering. These were her thoughts! Her feelings! He had no idea what she had suffered through as she waited every day, every second for Tom Riddle - the man she had met during her first year at Hogwarts - to take her away from this school and into his own household, to teach her what he had promised her, to allow her to touch the power and darkness of magic that she would never have had the chance to without him.

For the two years after the diary was destroyed she had followed his instructions, maintained the high grades that he had helped her establish, and remained the perfect daughter for the Weasley parents. Arthur and Molly had been overjoyed to see their little girl become the model student, giving the credits for such behaviour to the Professors. Ginerva was happy to maintain the façade, knowing that sooner rather than later her father would return to her life. Even though she was not related to the Weasleys by blood, the fact of the matter was, the entire family has raised her since she was a little girl. She owed them at least a little bit of respect for that. And so she remained in their home as their seventh and youngest child, waiting patiently until her father made an appearance.

But he didn't come for her. It had been more than a year and, still, there she sat, yet to see her father when the rest of the wizarding world was always whispering about him.

"He has forgotten he _has_ a daughter!" the young woman hissed with rage that any Slytherin would have been impressed by. But not the one in front of her it seemed.

He was a mere foot away from her when the words left her mouth. His hand moved quickly, giving her no time to see what was coming before it slammed into the side of her face sending her sprawling across his bed with a gasp of shock and intense pain.

"Do not insult the Dark Lord," he said lowly, only small traces of his anger present in the words.

Ginerva's hand rose to cover the burning flesh as a tear slid across it, not daring to look at the Malfoy heir out of pure humiliation.

The slap brought a halting end to the lashes of anger. A deathly silence only punctuated by the girl's small sobs settled over the room once again.

Draco kept his voice quiet as he spoke, eyes resting tiredly on the figure of the girl. "You wanted his attention. He has given it to you. For the duration of this school year, I have been assigned as your guardian by the Dark Lord himself. The matter is unnegotiable. If you ever pull the same stunt you tried to pull tonight you will be disowned. Immediately and irrefutably."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Reunion **

_1992_

The aged leather of the journal felt rough in the hands of the young girl. Her fingers slid curiously over the object that she had found in her cauldron after a day of shopping in Diagon Alley. It would not have belonged to any of her brothers or purchased at one of the shops. Its age was very evident on the black leather. Dents and cracks covered it from top to bottom - the top corner of the cover has been bent several times, leaving a punctuated mark.

A frown rested on the young girl's features as she handled the diary in front of her with delicate hands. From a young age she had always held very high appreciation for everything that was old – any object, any spell, any writings that could teach her something. Her brothers laughed at such curiosity, teasing her about it mercilessly. She didn't rise to their bait though. Ginerva remained sitting calmly, her gaze not changing from innocent curiosity as she looked up at the boys and waited for them to leave. They always left. Nagging such as this was only interesting if the person gave a response to the barbs and the insults – the redhead had discovered that early on. It was one of the many things she learned from her brothers.

Using only the tips of her fingers, Ginerva finally lifted the cover of the book open. The pages that were contained in it did not look any better than the leather covering it. It has been darkened by the decades of resting in dusty shelves or boxes that did not let in any light. There was something…..strange about those pages. The pull that they emitted towards the girl was unlike anything she had ever felt. Still, she moved slowly and with precision that was not common for her age, as she ran a finger over the surface of the parchment – feeling its texture. It felt almost too precious to write on. But still the pull persisted, not satisfied by mere contact. The redhead's lips were slightly parted as she looked in pure wonder at the journal in front of her. It was magical – she could simply feel that.

With delicate and slow movements, the girl lifted a quill that rested on her desk, bringing it to the to the inkwell, making sure to wipe off any excess ink on the side of the small bottle, before letting it hover over the ancient page for a few moments. With baited breath, Ginerva lowered the tip to the page. _My name is Ginerva Molly Weasley_, were the words she wrote.

There was little time to scrutinize her work and see if there were any smudges that she made before the sentence disappeared into the page, making place for another. _Hello, Ginerva. It is nice to finally meet you._

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_1996_

Three days have passed since Ginerva has ventured deep into the Slytherin Dungeons. Draco had half-carried her to the Entrance Hall after he made his declaration while she was still sobbing quietly. She couldn't see, couldn't think, even when he left her there without a word and with one last look of disgust, she could do nothing more than slide to the floor and weep. It took her more than an hour to get back to her feet. Rays of sunlight that came through the window above the front door of the school was what willed her to move. The prospect of someone finding her like that – donned only in a cloak, one side of her face bruised and cheeks covered in tear tracks – was not an inviting one. Gasping for breath, the young witch made the long journey up to the Gryffindor tower.

It felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She tried to do something, to fix it, but it all seemed to have backfired. The level of control she had over herself was getting weaker and weaker. She could not control the tears that slipped past her lids as she climbed staircase after staircase, pausing after every little step in order to gather the willpower to make it up the next one. It was excruciating. She was left all alone in a big castle with no friends, only people to look down on her and chip at the armour that was almost non-existent at that point.

Slowly taking a breath through her mouth, Ginerva focused her eyes on the stone beneath her feet and willed herself to focus. She could do it. It was not a difficult task – getting up to the Gryffindor tower. It was something that she did every day in fact. Focusing her thoughts on that and nothing else, the young witch continued her journey with renewed strength. It was the only thing that mattered – all that came after or before it didn't exist.

A total of twenty minutes have passed before she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. The day after she would barely be able to remember a moment of the journey - much less giving the portrait the password (if she had in fact done so). What she did remember though was the softness of her bed as she sank into the covers after making sure that the curtains around the four posters were closed and sealed by magic so no one would be able to hear or disturb her.

The following few days have passed in a trance. There were people around her, but she didn't notice them. She didn't want to notice anyone. It felt like all energy has been drained out of her that night and all it left behind was an empty shell.

On the other side of the Great Hall, Draco did not acknowledge her in any way at all. It seemed as if the entire night did not happen. Perhaps it didn't. Maybe it was just a nightmare Ginerva's mind have thought up in its state of shock. But it was real – she could feel it, had bruises to prove it. They had been healed away by her wand with a simple spell, but she could still feel them boring into her skin, could still feel the humiliation of being naked in the room of a Slytherin who despised her.

And he didn't give any sign that something has transpired between them. She remained to him as she was before this school year, just another nameless student among many. Thinking back on the previous years, Ginerva couldn't even remember the young Malfoy speaking one word to her in their school careers.

Her mind did not come to the decision whether the Slytherin's current behaviour was a positive or a negative thing. On the one hand, he had hurt her, humiliated her last night. At moments she felt like tearing his throat out with her bare teeth. These types of animalistic thoughts felt foreign o her, something that was a by-product of the Cruciatus Curse – something she tried to convince herself of anyway.

On the other hand, he knew who she was. Had met with her father and most probably had a way of contacting him. But after the treatment he gave her a few nights ago she was more than a little fearful to approach him.

A lot of time would have been required to come to a decision on that matter, the time that she did not in fact spend thinking simply because she couldn't. Her mind had closed off itself on many complicated thought processes after the night, only letting in brief glimpses here and there – not enough to see the full picture.

And so she sat in the Great Hall during breakfast of the first Saturday of the school year, playing with her porridge. Only a handful of spoons have made it past her lips, the concoction tasting like paper on her tongue. Those around her did not pay any mind to her or her strange behaviour, quite used to both. From behind a glass screen, she could hear talk and laughter, could see the animated faces of young people. They seemed to be somewhere far away, in a place where she would never belong.

The young witch didn't even look at them. She sat as stiff as a board, eyes glued to the surface of the table as she monotonously lifted the glass of pumpkin juice to her lips. No thought was given to the fact that her tongue should have been punctuated by a rich taste before the liquid slid down her throat. She drank all of it though. Consuming liquid was very primal and the witch couldn't help but give in to the feeling of it sinking into her body that greatly needed the nourishment. It was a tiny pigment of enjoyment in her otherwise colourless existence.

Juice consumed and the porridge mutilated enough, Ginerva rose from her seat silently, her eyes remaining unfocused as she made her way out of the room where many more were still eating. She drifted like a ghost past the doors into the room where she was left alone and weeping a few days ago.

Everything seemed lifeless as the Gryffindor proceeded towards the stairs. One foot in front of the other, she trudged on. There was someone walking towards her but she didn't notice them. The room seemed to have become strangely blurred. Did it matter that it did that? Ginerva didn't think so. A frown settled on her forehead as a loud voice came from her left. Why on earth was a person screaming? Where they scared of the spinning that seemed to have replaced the blurring? Ginerva wasn't scared: she wasn't scared of anything at all at that moment.

Head turning sluggishly towards the source of the sound, she begun to say something, but the words only became part of the blur that now encompassed everything. It felt like she was moving through water – movements slow and imprecise. An arm wrapped itself around her shoulders and everything ceased to exist.

* * *

Ginerva awoke in a bed with a horrible headache. Her eyes remained shut, a frown forming between them as she came to consciousness. It felt as if a thousand hippogriffs have trampled over her skull and left her to die. Her hands felt too weak to be lifted up and her orbs were refusing to open.

The young witch would have been happy to remain still until the moment of death had a large hand not slid under the base of her head to tilt it up slightly. Sounds of protest left her mouth as the pain between her temples escalated.

"Drink, Ginerva," an unfamiliar voice said as a vial was placed before her lips. She tried to turn her head away from the object – the frowning deepening – but the hand tightening its hold and a small whine freed itself from her mouth. "Now, Ginerva." This time the voice was stern, a warning underlying its calm exterior.

The girl paused in her feeble struggles for a second. Was there something familiar that she heard in the voice this time? There couldn't have been. She knew that she hadn't heard that particular voice before. But that little thread of wonder was what compelled her to obey finally. The liquid tasted sweet along with that familiar and unpleasant tang of medicine as it moved past her tongue. She could feel it moving past her throat and deeper into her body, pushing something unpleasant out of it. She felt an incredible lightness that allowed her to sink deeper into the matters under her. She could feel the headache leaving her along with the soreness she felt in the rest of her body. A small content sigh escaped her lips as she relaxed.

"Good girl," the voice praised softly. Her eyes opened, blinking tiredly before they came to focus on the face of a dark haired man. A small smile graced his lips as their eyes met. "Hello, little one."

"Fa-father?" Ginerva choked out, the back of her throat dry. She turned to her side, coughing. Strong arms wrapped around her frail frame, lifting her up into a sitting position and holding her there. A glass was at her lips and this time she didn't protest when she was ordered to drink. The girl gulped the contents of the glass down, the water tasting much better than anything else she had consumed in the last few days. Long gasps of breaths followed as the glass was removed. She took in the air through her nose, its own senses seeming to be coming awake as well.

The room around her smelled stale like it had been closed for a long time. The smell of wood and leather was very prominent with little dust particles hanging in the air. The window was opened however, to let in some fresh air, the sweet scent of trees and flowers drifting in from the outside.

The girl was leaning in to the figure of the man who sat beside her as she tried to get her bearings. "What…..what was that?" she said hoarsely, her eyes wide and remaining on the bedcovers for a second.

"A mild poison - only supposed to induce a light headache along with unconsciousness."

"You poisoned me?" she asked, incredulousness seeping into her tired voice.

"It was required to get you out of the school without anyone noticing," the man stated simply, watching the girl carefully and allowing her time to adjust.

Well, that sounded at least a little bit logical. Finally gaining control of her senses, Ginerva lifted her head to look at the man again. "Father…." She started softly, delight slowly slipping into her expression. "You haven't forgotten about me," she said, the statement childlike, as he hand rose and finger traced his cheek in wonder.

The man who sat before her was not the same Tom Riddle that she had met in her first year. This man was much older, appearing in his mid-fifties, his skin not as pale as the one of his younger counterpart, his facial features stronger, his frame broader. The way he carried himself was also very different. Though the Tom Riddle had always been self-assured, the aura of power that as emitted from the older man was almost tangible.

The Dark Lord allowed the girl to touch him, sitting calmly right next to her. "Of course I haven't forgotten about you, Ginerva. You are my daughter." He stroked her hair back from her face and her smile grew at such touches. His own expression remained close to placid as he studied her features.

"I am sorry, little one, for leaving you alone for so long. I didn't realise it was that bad," the Dark Lord said regretfully, his gaze becoming pained as he looked at his only child. His strong facial features remained taut however, as tears slipped from the girl's eyes.

Her head lowered as the tears released themselves. "I've been waiting for you for so long," she whimpered, shoulders shaking slightly.

He didn't respond to her words, letting her lean into him as he stroked her hair in comfort. Ginerva's arms wrapped around her father and she cried on his shoulder. It felt so incredibly uplifting to do that, to release the hurt that had been building up for years. The weigh that had been on her shoulders for so many years was lifting with every tear dropped, every stroke of his fingers through her hair. It felt so right to have his arms around her, something she always considered a luxury even when she saw his younger self often. Breathing in deeply, the Gryffindor tried to store the scent of her father in her head for as long as she would be able to.

"Will I be living with you now?" she asked when her sobs subsided, lifting her hopeful gaze to meet his eyes.

"I am afraid not, my dear," he answered plainly, his thumb wiping the last tear from her cheek. "You haven't earned that right." There was disappointment in his words, the kind that stung the girl more than any slap could have.

"Father…." She begun to say, head lowering as a renewed flow of tears flowed past her eyes, the voice becoming a low whine. She didn't know what to say. She knew very well by herself that she disappointed him greatly with her behaviour in the past year. "I am so sorry," she whispered quietly, knowing that the apology would do very little at this point.

"I know," he said simply, his voice regretful, neither harsh nor angry. His hand slipped under her chin and with a gentle but firm hold he lifted her head so he could see her eyes again. "I have been looking forward to having you under my roof no less than you have, little one. And what you didn't seem to recognise is that a year ago I didn't have a roof. A person has very little on them when they remain in a state of almost nonexistence for more than a decade."

Ginerva's cheeks coloured in humiliation at her own stupidity. Keeping her eyes trained on her father's was proving to be one of the hardest things she ever did. He was disappointed in her like he had never been. Even when her childish wiles got the better of her when she was younger, the man didn't make her feel so small with such a gaze. He understood and he gave her the guidance that she needed. Now though, she was almost a grown woman who should have been able to think and make the right decisions of her own accord. But it wasn't what she chose to do.

His eyes bore into hers and a moment later he was in her mind. "No!" the startled cry came from her lips as she tried feebly to push him out of her mind. A look of horror dominated her face as he flicked through the memories of her last school year, leaving nothing untouched. Every class she skipped, every time she didn't listen to a Professor, every boy that she kissed.

_No, no, no, no_, the word echoed through her mind as he went deeper, saw her pain, and looked at what his younger counterpart had taught her. The invasion of her mind seemed to last forever.

She couldn't move even if she tried. He held her head firmly in place with both of his hands. Finally, she felt his presence receding from her mind. His lips were pressed together as he finally detached his hands from her and she scooted back on the bed until her back slammed into headboard.

He rose, remaining silent as his back turned towards her. "There is a bathroom opposite this room. Make yourself presentable and come down to the study. We have your punishment to discuss." There was a clear change in his character. Gone was the gentle but firm father and in his place stood the Dark Lord that was so feared in all of Europe.

A visible shiver ran through the girl as she listened to his words. Her father's tone remained just as quiet as before, yet the coldness in it seemed to have grown from that of a gentle cool breathe to the powerful wind of the winter blizzard.

He didn't linger in the room, stepping towards the door and closing it behind him before the young witch had any time to react.

* * *

Here is Chapter 2! Thank you to everyone who has read and especially followed, favourited and reviewed this story. I am looking forward on your feedback on this chapter.

Until the next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Punishment**

_1992_

"Hello, Father!" Ginerva said brightly as she stepped into the room where the young man sat. It was dark in there. It was always dark. The underground chamber was one of many that spanned off the Chamber of Secrets and allowed those that carried the blood of Slytherin in their veins the comfort of living spaces where they could bide their time away from those above. And that was exactly what Ginerva was doing.

The flames in the fireplace as well as a number of candles ad lanterns provided sufficient lighting to the small sitting room, where a young version of Tom Riddle was currently sitting with a book in his hands. He didn't look up when the girl entered nor when she greeted him. The only thing he did was turn another page of the book and continued with his perusal of the text, leaving the Gryffindor standing awkwardly a few feet from him.

"Father?" a frown crossed the girl's face this time and she looked worriedly at the man, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. The happy spark that had been in her eyes when she entered had disappeared and her bottom lip has found its way between her teeth. "I'm….I'm sorry I didn't come visit you yesterday. I lost track of time."

Once again no response came from the young man. She simply stood there, her fingers intertwining with each other, feet shifting beneath her. She was squirming already with the mere knowledge that he was not pleased with her. The explanation as to why she didn't come yesterday as she was supposed to didn't even dare to make it to her tongue. And so she stood there silently for a long while. Not a word was uttered, the only sound in the room coming from the crackling fire and the occasional turn of the pages of his book. With each passing minute the discomfiting feeling grew in her stomach. Eventually her head lowered, the pale fingers scrunching up the fabric of her skirt until they turned red with the pressure and the girl tried to speak again. "I…..we…..Fred and George gave me a set of magical cards yesterday and me and my roommates spent the whole night playing with them." The words came out in a single breath and close to unintelligible. Ginerva took in a gasp of air, her head rising slightly, eyes widening as she concentrated them on the stone wall behind him and tried to gather her reeling thoughts.

"That wasn't so hard now was it?" Tom finally spoke as he closed his book calmly and looked up at his daughter.

She bit her lip, no voicing a response.

"Look at me, Ginerva," the man ordered as he rose from the couch, leaving the book behind.

The Gryffindor's eyes darted to his face for a few seconds than to the floor between them than back to his eyes. At the time she had met Tom Riddle and for many years after, the girl wondered why the sorting hat placed her in the house of the lions when she had the blood of the serpents coursing through her veins. Was she not as cunning, and more true to her heart? Not as ambitious but simply free? She knew she was sly, she knew she was ambitious. Those qualities rested deep within her. They were the ones that allowed her to keep all the secrets, to stay quiet for so long. Perhaps it was the endurance and willpower that lay beneath everything else: the kind that did not stop her from looking danger right in the eye.

So she looked on into the eyes of her father with that spark of bravery that was within her.

"I am not pleased to see such ignorance, Ginerva," he stated, regarding her with a stern expression. "You have disregarded your previous promise to me in order to spend more time with the people you already spend the majority of your days with."

A low whine escaped Ginerva's lips before she had the chance of holding it within. Her head lowered in embarrassment, the words having struck true to her behaviour. "I am sorry, Father," the girl's cheeks were red as she whispered the apology. The unnerving feeling in her stomach doubled in intensity.

An impatient sound came from Tom's direction and his hand rose to take a firm grasp of her chin, lifting her head so he could see her eyes once again. "Merely saying that you are sorry is never going to do you any good, Ginerva, despite what the Weasleys might have taught you," he informed her sharply, a certain chill seeping into his eyes.

She didn't say anything in reply, having no words that she could give to him. This was the first time she was seeing such disapproval being aimed at her from the heir of Slytherin and she truly did not know what to expect. Her voice became little, her squirming hands stilling, "I promise I won't forget again."

"I suppose I cannot expect too much from you at this point, can I? You have no true understanding of discipline, after all," a pensive quality has overtaken the man's voice as he studied the child with his dark gaze. "But do not worry, Ginerva. I will teach you what you need to know."

The young witch's brown orbs reflected wonder and dread as they watched the man, completely unknowing what to expect.

What came next seemed dull and embarrassing to the witch. She had been ordered to kneel in the back corner of the room, her legs positioned a few inches away from the stone walls. Tom had returned to his comfortable chair and the book he was reading before his daughter arrived, leaving the girl herself much more apprehensive about the whole situation. Truthfully at that point it just seemed as a more severe version of the punishment her mother had subjected to as a young child. She would have been ordered to sit still somewhere quiet, much to the girl's boredom. It never did much to change her behaviour though. The young redhead would have generally stayed out of trouble for the rest of that day before forgetting about the entire incident when it came to the next morning.

Now she was older and had found herself in almost the same predicament. Those were the thoughts that swam around her mind for the first ten minutes at least. It was at that point that her bare knees started to hurt. The tender skin was wedged between cold stone and hard bones that were currently supporting almost all of her body weight. Ginerva hadn't given that much thought when she first lowered herself to that position.

The only measure of time the Gryffindor had during her punishment was the turning of pages of her father's book. She wasn't exactly sure when she started counting every time, but what she did know was that her knees were already sore by that stage. She bit her lip to hold in a whimper of pain as she waited to be released. Four. Five. Six. Her eyes scrunched up and she had to hold back the plea that wanted desperately to be voiced. _Merely saying that you are sorry is never going to do you any good. _Those were his words; she had to listen to them. Not just to please him, but to prove to herself that she was strong enough. Everything that he had taught her so far had been wonderful and pleasing him had become more than a wish. The Gryffindor wanted her father to be proud of her. Seven. Eight. A whine finally made it past the barrier that she Ginerva had constructed. She squirmed slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing. Nine. Ten. Eleven. The book snapped shut and the girl took in a prolonged breath.

"Very good, Ginerva. You may rise," the Slytherin finally spoke, a note of approval evident in his voice. Two hours had passed since the punishment has started and not one complaint was heard from the girl. A weak smile slipped onto her lips.

* * *

_1996_

Ginerva didn't _feel_ presentable as she exited the bathroom. The dried tears have been washed from her face and the clothes has been straightened somewhat on her frame, but overall the image that she saw in the mirror was not one she wished to greet the most powerful Dark Lord with. Any confidence of her own person seemed to have vanished, replaced only by the vulnerability that didn't allow her to hide any emotions. She had considered lingering on the upper level of the house for as long as she could, but the memories of her father's patience being tested before quickly pushed the Gryffindor towards the staircase.

The house was a small one, containing barely any items that could personalise the abode. The primary colours evident in the interior closely resembled the ones of the thick forest that could be seen from all of the windows. Had the situation she was in been different, Ginerva was sure that she would feel a sense of peace within these walls.

Locating the study took her much less time then she wished it would have. The door was slightly open, providing her enough information about the room at a glance to come to the conclusion that it was the one she was looking for. She slipped in quietly, eyes immediately finding her father who sat behind the large wooden desk. The wizard was looking over some papers before the girl arrived, eyes snapping up at her when she closed the door behind herself. The silence was not broken as Voldemort leaned back in his chair, appraising the witch with a placid expression. She didn't lower her eyes from his, knowing that this was not the time or place to show such submissiveness. When it came to previous disciplinary talks the Gryffindor knew that he would judge her every action and every word, and see how skilfully she could balance on the scale of remaining strong yet acknowledging her misdeeds.

'I wasn't exactly truthful with you when I said we will be discussing your punishment, Ginerva," the Dark Lord begun, his level voice carrying just a hint of the coldness that she saw when he exited the bedroom. His gaze was calculating though, the lack of emotion evident sending more messages than some would have. "A punishment implies experiencing something unpleasant to correct a wrong and be forgiven for it. You have overstepped that luxury," he informed her simply.

Silence fell upon them for a few moments. The dread that Ginerva had felt when she made the journey down the stairs intensified.

"What I have for you are a few options," he continued, the businesslike manner in which he spoke doing nothing to prepare her for the words that followed. "The easiest option is for you to remain as you are, doing whatever you desire, having only to answer to your adopted parents. It is the simplest way. It would cut you off entirely from myself and I will no longer recognise you as my daughter. Your safety will not be guaranteed. As a witch known to have ties with the Light side you will become one of the targets of the Dark Army."

Ginerva stood stock still, her entire body seeming to have frozen. She didn't move or speak, as waves of ice coursed inside her, leaving behind a trail of pain behind them. One would not be able to recognise the man who sat behind the desk as the same one who comforted his crying daughter a short while ago.

"The second option," her father continued, not going the girl much time to think. "You will reserve the privilege of calling yourself my daughter. If you choose to accept this option, there will be a number of conditions that you will have to abide by. You will be completing your fifth year of education in Hogwarts and achieving nothing below and E on all of your OWLs. You will not be permitted to continue any of your relationships that you had with young wizards last year. If you are successful in completing this school year as you have been instructed then I will take you into my home and you will finish the last two years of your studies with the help of private tutors. What you will learn will not deviate a lot from what your peers would be learning. The only addition that I will make would be history and traditions of the pureblood society. After that you will be free to live as you like more or less. You will be viewed as a supporter of the dark army and provided with appropriate security, however you will not be participating in any way in the war."

The Gryffindor took in a breath of air as her father paused in his speech, her posture as stiff as a rod, eyes glued to the man as she listened on.

"And the last option," Voldemort said, sweeping his eyes over the girl for a second," will require your complete obedience. You will need to achieve nothing less than Outstanding in all of your OWLs. You will let go completely of any romantic notions you had for your fellow students and focus on your studies. At the end of this school year you will be retrieved from the castle and tested on your abilities. As it stands right now your Occlumency shield is almost non-existent, your body is weak and you are not able to handle even one second under the Cruciatus Curse. Come to me in this state ten months from now and I will dismiss you immediately, if you should choose this option. You will be put through a series of tests and if you will attain the level I deem satisfactory in them, you probation period will be over. From that point, I will mentor you myself and when you have learned enough under my tutelage I will make you my Dark Princess. You will be one of the main leaders of the Dark Army with more knowledge of the Dark Arts than anyone besides myself."

Ginerva sucked in an audible gasp of air, her vision swimming out of pure euphoria for a few moments. Yes, this was what she had always wanted, what she had dreamed of since she was eleven years old. It was what Tom Riddle had whispered to her like a lullaby when they sat together by the fire, what filled her dreams at night and drove her on during the day.

There was a smile that started to appear on her lips, however the pure ice that she saw in the man's eyes willed her expression to go back to a stoic one, her body feeling cold once again. There was so much to take in and for a few moments the girl stood completely still before her head lowered and she sank down to her knees.

"Father," Ginerva's voice was soft and showed the vulnerability that was inside of her. "I want nothing more than to learn from you. I….I know I made some great mistakes. Please allow me this opportunity to show you that I can earn back your trust," she begged, eyes staying on the rug under her.

It was truly exceptional how much understanding has come to her mind simply because she was near him. He did not have to say many words. The Dark Lord's disappointment in his daughter could be very clearly seen from the very start. And she felt so weak, to the point where it disgusted even herself. He had asked for her complete obedience and she was more than willing to give him that if only she would be able to earn his approval once again. The first two options that he had offered her flew from her mind completely, leaving and empty pace that could only be filled by her ruthless determination to become what the Dark Lord would be proud to call his daughter.

Voldemort regarded the girl with a cold gaze. "You will not be seeing me again until after you take the OWL examinations at the end of this year. The choices you make between then and now are completely up to you. You are no longer a child and you will not be treated as such. If you succeed, you will have a place within the Dark Army. If not, you will be dismissed. Draco will be available to guide you through some training. _You_ will come to him, not the other way around. He is not your babysitter. He will function as my eyes on you in the school and will inform me if you were following my instructions throughout the year. I suggest you get well acquainted with the young wizard if you want to achieve your goals."

"Draco?" the Gryffindor raised her head in surprise, a frown on her face. The conversation she had with him a few nights ago came back and her cheeks reddened. Getting 'well acquainted' with that particular young wizard was the last thing she wanted to do at that moment.

The Dark Lord did not give a verbal reply to the girl's question, his expression becoming hard as his patience thinned. "He had informed me very clearly about that little stunt you pulled three days ago. Frankly a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse would have done you some good, but like I said, you have overstepped the luxury of punishment. As of this moment, you will be proceeding with a clean slate. I have outlined the conditions to you. If you deviate from any of them you will be disowned. I have no use for a girl who has too many hormones and no focus," the last statement came out as a hiss, striking deep within Ginerva.

The Gryffindor's gaze snapped back to the floor as was put back in her place. A heavy breath left her lips. "Yes, Father," she murmured weakly. "I will do whatever you wish."

* * *

Ragged breaths echoed off the bare stone walls of the dungeon cell. The Malfoy heir knelt before the Dark Lord, sweat beading on his forehead, jaw clenched in both anger and pain.

"You are testing my patience, boy!" Voldemort snapped lowly, his wand pointed at the young wizard. Five Cruciatus Curses have already been fired from its tip in the last ten minutes and still it hung in the air, ready to administer more punishment.

"My Lord," Draco managed to say hoarsely, his throat dry. Not a sound had come from him as he was held under the most excruciating curse. He stayed as still and stiff as a rod, muscles contracting as his mind willed them to push the pain away. It was something that his father had taught him to do. Handling extreme pain was one of the skills he had to master as part of his rigorous training.

"The fate of your entire family is balanced on your shoulders right now. Fail me and your father will be spending the rest of his days in Azkaban. You and your mother will be dead if the assignment is not completed before the deadline," Voldemort stated coldly, as he looked down at his servant. "You have been given two tasks: one to ensure the safety and wellbeing of your family and the second to re-establish the rank of the Malfoys at the top of the Dark Army. Already, so few days after the start you are failing," he hissed, the true level of his fury starting to show.

"I have called you here to remind you of your task and give you one last warning, because it seems you have forgotten what you are meant to achieve. My daughter is to be made into a leader, not driven further into the submissive state she had pushed herself into. Raise your hand or wand to harm her ever again and I will chop both of your hands off your body," he snapped sharply. "You are not her superior; you have no power to hand out any punishments to her. You will control your anger and you will do as you have been ordered. Do I make myself clear?"

The Slytherin didn't have a chance to reply as the sixth Cruciatus of that night was fired at his chest. A grunt left his lips, his body starting to crack under the immense pressure. Minutes seemed to have passed before the pain receded from his body, even though the curse was aimed at him for only twenty seconds. The blond gasped for breath, hands slamming into the stone floor to support his weight. "Yes, my Lord!" he managed to wheeze out, moisture gathering in his eyes.

"Good," Voldemort stated simply, satisfied that his message was well delivered. The long yew wand was put back into the pocket of his robe as the man turn towards the door. He stopped two feet away from the exit, not turning back as he added one final comment," Your rage is becoming your downfall in your quest to marry my daughter. Do not make me regret my decision."

The door opened as Draco took in deep breaths, his eyes on the floor and his mind filled with the words of the Dark Lord. The only reply he could to the empty room was t to clench his jaw once again as the door slammed closed.

* * *

The corridors of the Dark Headquarters were quiet as Voldemort made his way up to his personal study. The hour was close to midnight and many Death Eaters have either retired to their homes or were out completing tasks for their Master. Quiet voices came from one of the rooms on the second floor as the Dark Lord passed the door: two members of the Inner Circle discussing an attack that they would be executing in a week's time. The man didn't pause in his step, continuing on towards the end of the corridor where a low ranking Death Eater was posted on sentry duty outside of his study.

"Master," the soldier bowed from his waist, showing the respect that was required of him. Straightening himself back up, he kept his eyes on the floor as he gave his report. "You have a visitor waiting."

The thin candles that provided all the lightening in the corridor only allowed Voldemort to see the pale face of the robed figure who sat unmoving behind the Death Eater. "You are dismissed," he stated simply towards the wizard, expression not changing as his eyes continued to study the face.

"My…my Lord," the Death Eater hesitated to obey the order – lacking all understanding of what was happening around him. He was more surprised when his Master did not even look at him after such breach of obedience. Not wishing to find himself at the wrong end of the wand of the most feared man in Europe, the stationed Death Eater quickly made himself scarce, leaving the two alone.

No word was spoken as Voldemort reached out and opened the door, waiting beside it. The dark figure rose from the chair it had been seated in, moving into the room few people had ever been permitted to visit. Only after the door was closed behind both of the parties, were the first words spoken. "Lady Vespera," the Dark Lord greeted, his cold voice containing a hint of a drawl. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My Lord," the woman murmured in return, turning to face him where he still stood at the door. "I apologise that it took me so long to pay my respects after your resurrection," she continued as her hands rose to lower the hood from her head.

An eyebrow lifted itself on his forehead and a gleam of amusement flashed through his eyes for only a second before the layer of ice returned to them. "Your acknowledgements have been noted," he inclined his head simply. "Is there anything else that has prompted you to visit me on this night in particular?"

One corner of Vespera's lips tugged up into the beginning of a smile before she could hold it back, however, in the next moment her expression had settled into one of composed detachment that it held before. "Indeed," she answered smoothly. "I heard talk that you have paid a visit to our daughter today."

* * *

**Author's Note**

A day late on the update, but this chapter is longer than the previous two. A stupid technicality kind of bugged me for the first two days before I could start this chapter. I decided to ignore it completely as it was not relevant to the plot. That technicality being of how Ginny would have been able to physically see Tom Riddle in her first year. It does not carry any importance in this story, as I am focusing on their relationship when I write about Ginny's first year. There will be more segments of that in later chapters in a non-chronological order. Most likely not in every chapter.

Soooooo, this particular chapter really marks the start of the story. Personally, it's my favourite out of the three. Lots of new stuff here and lots of things to look forward to in the future. We will get to find out more about Draco's story as we go on. Oh and Vespera :P . Quite an interesting woman. The idea for her character jumped at me out of nowhere. I actually wasn't planning on writing anything about Ginny's mother but the bare minimum, but I liked Vespera too much not to write about her.

Ginny herself is going to be changing a lot throughout the whole fic and that change will be starting next chapter.

Okay, I rambled on for longer than I thought I would. Please review :D I would love to hear what you think about the story so far. Happy reading and until the next time!


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